Consequences
by Taywen
Summary: The heroes return. Unfortunately, a hero's welcome does not await them. And Duessel isn't quite sure why Cormag came back at all. Cormag enlightens him.


**Disclaimer**: FE does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Nintendo, etc.

**Notes**: Assume Eirika's path was taken.

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Consequences

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"It's good to be home," Duessel remarks as they enter the small town on Grado's side of the Narube. This village had escaped the ravages of war, although the pyres burning a mile out are grim reminders of the undead minions of the Demon King still roaming the land.

Cormag glances at him, an unusual brooding look on his face. "A hero's welcome awaits, I'm sure." Sarcasm stains his words.

"Cormag, please," Duessel says in an undertone. He casts a glance at the soldiers who had defected with him - they look no less eager to be in their home country than Duessel or Cormag.

The wyvern lord exhales heavily. "Sorry. I know it's not easy for anybody." He rubs a hand over his mouth, his eyes distant. "At least we beat the Demon King, right?"

"That's right," Amelia pipes up, pulling up beside the pair of them. "How hard can it be to rebuild Grado after that? And we won't be doing it alone, either! All our friends will help us."

Cormag looks like he's about to disagree, but in the end he says nothing.

Duessel smiles at the young paladin. Even if he is uncertain how much aid their allies will be able to provide, her words are a heartening reminder that they will not be alone. "That's true, Amelia."

She beams at them. "How long of a ride do you think it will be to the capital? I've never been, before."

"Depends on the state of the roads," Cormag remarks. "Not too long if we were all flying, but..."

"Flying... I wonder what it would be like to be a pegasus knight," Amelia murmurs thoughtfully, diverted.

Cormag glances at her, a strange look on his face. Not disapproving, as far as Duessel can tell. It seems as if he doesn't know what to make of her.

The atmosphere remains somber when they pull up in front of the town's largest inn. It used to be a thriving establishment, before the war. No foreigners wanted much to do with Grado - with the exception of those trying to save their own skins, like some of the councilmen in Carcino - after news of the invasion of Renais spread.

The innkeeper is apologetic but firm - there aren't enough rooms to put up all the soldiers, as so many have been unused in recent months.

"Dust or mustiness are no matter," Duessel insists.

"I'm sorry," the innkeeper repeats, a strained smile on his face. "I cannot in good conscience offer the brave soldiers of Prince Ephraim's army rooms beneath their station."

Cormag sucks in a breath at his side, not quite a gasp. Duessel closes his eyes, but only briefly - he'd been expecting a similarly cool reception, but not this soon. This region of Grado had not been part of Ephraim's campaign to take the capital, after all.

"We've slept in worst, sir, honestly," Amelia says, quite earnest. Duessel isn't entirely sure whether she is genuinely oblivious to the tension, or if she chooses to ignore it. "Any bed is better than sleeping on the ground again!"

There's a chorus of agreement from the men that have gathered within the inn's eating area, eager for a night off the road.

The man's eyes widen slightly as his gazes travels over the group. They number less than a proper platoon of the Imperial Army, but the force could easily take a small town like this, if it was so inclined.

Duessel wants to tell the man that they are not inclined to take comfort by force - but what good would it do? He trusts these soldiers with his life, but he does not want to plant the seeds of an idea in their minds.

The innkeeper swallows audibly. "Very well, if the lord general insists," he says. "I'm afraid the usual amenities are not up to snuff - as I said, we have not had much business... I've had to let a good few of my employees go."

"That's fine," Duessel says, feeling equal measures of relief and apprehension. "Anything is better than sleeping in a tent for another night."

The man nods stiffly and goes out, calling for the few maids he yet retains.

Duessel leaves, blinking as a few of the sun's rays that have yet to slip beneath the horizon blind him.

"That went well," Cormag says.

Duessel flinches; he hadn't noticed Cormag following him back outside. "I suppose," he replies, barely resisting the urge to sigh heavily.

Cormag casts a glance over his shoulder - most of the men have remained inside; the rest are tending to the horses and unloading supplies. No one is within earshot, unless he and Cormag start shouting at each other.

Cormag takes a step closer regardless. "It's only going to get worse from here," he says.

"If you are so wary of your countrymen's reaction to your return, then why did you not take up one of the numerous offers that your friends made?" Duessel snaps back, sharply enough that the sound of his voice, if not the words, reach the ears of the nearest soldiers.

They glance over, and Cormag gives them a hearty wave before abruptly steering Duessel down the street, into the mouth of a shadowed alley.

" And become the only wyvern rider in a country of pegasus knights?" Cormag demands the moment they're off the street. "Or, perhaps, the only airborne unit in all of Renais?" He shakes his head.

"That's not even the issue, really," he says, more calmly. "I wouldn't care if I was the only wyvern knight in the kingdom. It's the company that I care about. They'd all be going home to rebuild their homes and move forward with their lives, and that's fine. But... I'd be abandoning my home and the life I've known, and I'm not that sort of man."

Duessel winces; he'd spoken hastily, lashing out at one of the few men who did not have the Obsidian General on a marble pedestal, and he deeply regretted doing so. Cormag did not deserve that. "Cormag, I'm sorry. That wasn't-"

"Maybe," Cormag says darkly, continuing as if Duessel hadn't starting speaking once more, "I wasn't part of Prince Ephraim's campaign. I still cut down my comrades without hesitation. And unlike you, I didn't suffer a crisis of conscience; I abandoned Grado for vengeance, and that's all there is to it. I was so angry after Glen died, I didn't care about anything beyond making his murderer experience a fraction of my agony."

He pauses, breathing heavily. Duessel doesn't think he has seen this much animation on Cormag's face outside of battle since- since before Glen died. No, since before Vigarde's decline.

"What good is my word, if I go back on it for my own selfish need for vengeance?" Cormag asks, taking a step back. His armor scrapes against the stone wall at his back, but he pays it no mind. "What would Glen think of me?"

These last words are uttered quietly, as if to himself.

"I imagine - no, I _know_ - that he would be proud of you. He would be so proud of all that you have accomplished, Cormag. You aided in the defeat of his murderer, and you helped to bring down the Demon King. Those are not small accomplishments. I think you are your brother's equal now, Cormag," Duessel says, low and sincere.

Cormag shakes his head, a bitter expression on his face. "I knew nothing of the Demon King when I joined Princess Eirika," he points out. "And I never wanted to be Glen's equal. I was content- I was _happy_ to stand at his side, or in his shadow, however you want to put it."

"Cormag-"

"I think, had our positions been reversed, that Glen would have wanted to help rebuild Grado. I do want that too, for myself, but I want to do it for him as well."

"General Duessel? Sir Cormag?" Amelia's familiar young voice comes from the direction of the inn.

Cormag steps out of the alley and walks towards her; Duessel follows, turning Cormag's words over in his mind.

"There's no need for the titles, Amelia," Cormag's telling her now. "After all, you're a full paladin of the realm now, I think that gives you permission to address us with just our names."

Amelia blushes. "I suppose," she says. "It just seems- well you and Ge- Duessel are so experienced."

"We fought in the same war," Cormag points out, relentless. Once he gets an idea in his head, it's hard to dissuade him, Duessel knows.

"But I'm so young, and you're both-" Amelia stops, her eyes widening even as her blush deepens.

Cormag raises his eyebrows. "Pardon me? We're both so old, is that what you were going to say? Just how old do you think I am, huh?"

"That isn't- I didn't mean-"

"Now wait just a moment," Duessel interrupts, adopting what he considers to be his commanding voice. "Are you implying that I'm 'so old', Cormag?"

"Of course not, I know exactly how old you are," Cormag says dismissively. "You're not _so_ old..."

"Thank y-"

"You're just plain old," Cormag finishes, deadpan.

Duessel glares at him, magnanimously ignoring Amelia's stifled giggle.

"You youngsters," Duessel mutters, stalking past them. "No respect these days."

Cormag says something, too quietly for Duessel to make out the words though he can imagine the gist; Amelia's giggles become full-out laughter.

Duessel finds himself smiling even as the harassed-looking innkeeper hurries towards him.

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A/N: This was originally written as part of a larger, cuter fic featuring Cormag and his kitten. The kitten never made an appearance in this part and it just seemed way too angsty, so I cut it. But I liked it too much, so here we are. :)


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